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The Provocative Eye

Passionate perfectionist of a writer. Avid lover of all things fashion. Country born/City girl with big dreams of penning stellar award winning fiction novels and short stories. Cookie connoisseur. Healthy obsession with French films and culture. Team Android. Exotic art, photography and fashionART serves as muses, Hemingway as inspiration. Follower of and redeemed by Jesus Christ.

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Fashion. Art. Musings. Life.

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I awake startled, in night sweats, breathing heavily with my heart racing frantically..no this isn’t some fictional story I’m constructing in my head. This is real. Terror sweeps through my physical body, as familiar menacing thoughts replay over and over again. What if I fail and fail miserably?What if no one responds? What if I’m a fake, a phony? What if people think I know nothing about fashion? What if I’m completely delusional about my writing? What if no one gets what I’m trying to do? What if I’m just not good enough? What if? What if? What if? What if?

These thoughts have plagued me for weeks, months ever since I made the decision to bear my soul to the world by starting my own blog. After all, I have dreams of creating and running my own magazine one day so starting with a blog seemed ideal at the time. Taking the necessary steps to set up said blog has been overwhelming, frightening and exciting. Partially because I’m such a perfectionist but mostly because of fear. And each time I get a dose of confidence or some outside encouragement, fear raises his deceptive head, smiles wickedly at me then privately shuns me. One particular Wednesday night when I should have been writing but because fear had already made an appearance, I was sitting in front of the television zoned out. Channel surfing. Wasting away the creativity that burns within my soul. I happened to stop on the premier episode of American Idol. Staring at hopeful talents audition before “seasoned professionals” struck a chord (no pun intended) in me and although I was no AI virgin, something was different as I began to think of myself as one of the contestants. Maybe I am slightly delusional or a bit narcissistic in my thinking, that I’m good enough to venture out on new waters by starting this blog. Like some AI contestants, maybe my talent would not be so apparent to “seasoned professionals” and I would never earn the golden ticket to Hollywood (ie be apart of the fashion elite). Watching the contestants break down emotionally, seeing them melt utterly in rejection, I imagine my inner fashion editor/budding author scurry and cower into the corner of my bedroom as negative thoughts wrap around me like a poisonous python ready to inject me with disbelief. I’m not good enough. It isn’t going to work. I will fail. But the most beautiful thing happened amidst the broken chords of failure seeping through my walls, instead of allow defeat to conquer me, I jumped into action pulling out my laptop and began to write. And silenced that inner critical voice in my head. If hopeful talents could bravely face a panel of the best of the best in their field, stand tall and take the shot, well why can’t I do the same? It takes tremendous courage to pursue your heart’s desire, to believe in yourself. And faith to simply pursue your passion. A dreamer can’t sleep forever; at some point you have to wake up, take in the moment, stand before the panel and take your best shot. This is my AI moment.